


Revealing Light

by ausmac



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:22:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23643028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: A small contemplative piece about past hurts and how they can change the one who gives them.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Revealing Light

The early morning sunlight was mild, but revealing.

Sometimes Laurent could forget the scars, when he saw only Damen’s front – his face, his eyes, his broad, solid chest. Yet every time his hands slid around behind his lover he could feel them, even through layers of cloth or armour. Time had diminished them but not the emotion their touch evoked. And as Damen slept naked on his belly, sprawled out and taking up much of the bed as he usually did, they were impossible to ignore.

Lying on his side with his head propped on one hand, Laurent ran his fingers across the broad back. The scars rippled under his fingers, a brocade of old pain patterned in blood long since dried but not forgotten. Sensitive to his touch as always, Damen stirred awake – he turned his head on the side, eyes opening to immediate awareness, a warrior’s instincts controlled by the familiarity of the touch. He blinked and went to turn but Laurent’s hand stilled him. There was a moment of pleasure in that, his ability to hold still the strength under his hand. It had been born of a desire to control that which he hated but time and circumstances and pure undeserving luck had made it otherwise. The chain was still there but it was forged of a much purer metal.

“I wanted to hurt you.”

“I thought you wanted to kill me.” 

“I did. Not all at once. A little at a time.” His fingers continued to stroke over ridges of old scarring. “But I got carried away.”

Damen’s hand slid out and caught Laurent’s wrist, moving it away from his back. “It doesn’t matter…”

“Oh but it did. It does.” His fingers curled around Damen’s hand, warmed from sleep. “I realised my uncle was winning. Not just our constant battle of so-called wits, but our far more personal conflict. I was becoming like him, hurting someone who couldn’t fight back just for the pleasure of it. I’d wanted to hear you scream, beg, cry out in pain to make up for the pain I’d felt at Auguste’s death. It seemed fair enough at the time. Until I admitted to the inconsistencies, the differences between beating a man to death with a whip and killing a man in fair battle.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to the sun-warmed skin of Damen’s back. “You didn’t beg or scream. I always wondered if I could have had anything like your fortitude.”

Damen turned onto his side and gathered Laurent close to him. “You would have figured out a way never to get to that point. My cunning, clever lover.” He punctuated the words with kisses, touching those places on Laurent that never failed to turn off his brain and turn on his body in a very satisfactory fashion. There wasn’t any need to think beyond the moment when he was held against that strong body and for once, when his hands lay on Damen’s back, he felt only sunlight.


End file.
